


Nobody Knows Who's Walking Inside

by Liadt



Category: Bulman
Genre: Alternative Universe - Historical, Alternative Universe - Victorian, Crossdressing, Episode: s01e01 Winds of Change, Gen, alternative universe, horologists are expected to have standards, so I used obbo in the incorrect timeperiod
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Victorian London, Bulman can’t have a young, unmarried and un-chaperoned woman living with him, luckily Lucy has a plan.</p><p>(As an historical AU of the first episode little knowledge of <i>Bulman</i> is required)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Knows Who's Walking Inside

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after thinking Lucy and George would have been thrown out of a flat for living together in the 60’s, until I remembered George owned his property so he could do what he wanted. However, there were times where even property owners had to be careful who they had over to stay and I thought the sideburns would be put to good use in an Victorian period drama;)

Mr George Kitchener Bulman, Esq. wondered how soft a man could get in his old age. Several years ago on the beat, he’d complained when he’d been teamed up with a member of the fairer sex, Mrs Linda Doran, the private lady investigator. When the crime was solved, he was sorry to see her go. She’d won him over with her clear-headed deduction and reasoning. Then there was the daring damsel, Miss Vanessa Bennett, brining distress to ne’er-do-wells, as she chased them through the streets on her fiery steed. 

This evening, in 'Old Mrs Richards’ Emporium of Curiosities' (which he had recently purchased off the titular proprietor), the daughter of an old comrade was showing off her new outfit to him, from the top of the stairs. Bulman down on the shop floor said, “It’ll never work, Thomas McGinty’s daughter.”

“Why not? The suit is a wee bit baggy, granted, but if was tighter it would be no disguise at all,” said Miss Lucy McGinty, as she descended the steps. She was dressed in men’s clothes, she had found in an old chest and had concealed her long hair under a cap. “You said you couldn’t possibly let me sleep outside in a cart because it wasn’t safe, but you were worried what it would do to your reputation, with potential customers, if it became common knowledge you let an unmarried and un-chaperoned young woman stay the night in your quarters.”

Bulman shook his head. “If I was a wealthy man who didn’t need the patronage of the easily offended to earn a crust I wouldn’t care if you came in wearing naught but a feather and doing the can-can. In that rig you will be mistaken for a pretty Molly. The neighbours won’t leave it at whispering behind the back of their hands, ‘Oh that’s why he granted his ex-wife a divorce without a fight,’ they’ll be calling the Peelers to send me to compose a sequel to ‘The Ballard of Reading Gaol’.”

“With regards to your neighbours, I don’t think they’re in a position to lecture others on their morals.”

“That’s the problem, there are plenty of toe rags who are very desirous of stirring up trouble for me, after I’d personally put the kybosh on their criminal career prospects.”

“I daresay, but what kind of fellow could read anything untoward in the actions of an honest ex-policeman giving the offspring of his dear, departed colleague a position in his business?”

“When did a bed for the night turn into offer of work?”

“You’re going to need help running two businesses. You can’t honestly think running a clock hospital will pay the bills. This is London; there are hundreds of well established horologists, with years of experience. What have you got they haven‘t?”

“When I last made a tally I counted only one business in this shop. What other horologists don't have are my magic hands. I've inherited them from my grandfather,” answered Bulman.

“Magic won’t protect you from the march of progress. Who will require a clock doctor when all watches are electronically powered? Solving crime is what you were put on Earth to do. My father told me you used to talk about going private together. I’ll stay in the shop when you have a case to investigate and I’ll be your eyes and ears when a clock in urgent need of attention arrives,” argued Lucy.

Bulman was dubious; although Lucy’s idea was appealing, he felt he was being hooked in by the enthusiasm of youth. “If Annie Richards hadn’t disappeared and left an unidentified corpse I’d have cleared out the junk and repainted the sign, ready for the grand opening by now. This is a one off investigation - not a new business venture,” he stated firmly.

“Be sensible, how many customers will pay a special visit to this godforsaken corner of London? Local people won’t bring in enough timepieces to pay for your stockings. The real trade here is crime.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Industrial espionage, kidnapping, adult napping, blackmail and all the other cases clients are too scared or embarrassed to trouble the police with. I can be both your old mate’s son and the girl who runs errands during the day. We can go where the Bobbies can’t.”

Bulman was impressed at the thought Lucy had put into the idea of a private enquiry business. He had to be sure she really wanted to do it though. If the private investigations didn’t work out for him that was that, but Lucy’s reputation would be tarnished if their prospective arrangement was found out. Over the short time he had known her, he’d taken to the girl and he didn’t want her marriage prospects sullied. 

“You’ll be prepared to work for nothing initially,” he said.

“Oh no! I came here to become a professional not an amateur. I’ve not a shilling to my name.”

“I can offer you expenses and you can stay here in the shop, until we become established as the new Holmes and Watson.”

“Great!” said Lucy, eagerly.

“ _If_ I can use you bike.”

“Very well, but I’ll require the use of your tin bath - daily.”

Bulman put out his arm. “You’re on, partner.”

They shook hands to seal the deal.

“Now are you going to be wearing breeches or bloomers for the rest of the day?”

“It depends on our next move.”

Bulman took some coins out of his purse. “Get yourself something to eat and come back here to hold the fort. You can spend your time practising manliness, Lukey-boy, while I use your bike to keep a suspect under obbo.”

“Luke? I think Jasper suits me,” said Lucy, pouting but pleased.

The End.


End file.
